Not Quite How it Happened
by Alejandro Lee
Summary: A completely alternate idea of how Dib learned of aliens. (This is the first time I'm writing for this fandom, and it was all based on a dream I had yesterday!) XD


Disclaimer: I dreamt this entire plot up on October 23, 2002. All I did was convey it in words so don't be accusing me of stealing your idea- because I didn't. ^_^  
  
Here we go...  
  
Firstly, it started out as a flashback to my old childhood home. I suppose dad was telling me to do yard work. But in a blink of an eye, the scene changed to the dark, foreboding slums of some city...  
  
Now I still haven't seen the first episode of Invader Zim (in fact, I haven't seen that show in over a month now ~ powers-that-be have cancelled it ;_; ) but now everything was very much in the style of the show... somehow my mind is telling me what I'm watching is the first episode, even though it'll all be made-up...  
  
We're given a cute-yet-equally-deranged montage of Dib growing up (that's funny, thinking back on my childhood was such a bore that I had to go think about his instead ^^) But the turning point for him here was one night at the dead-end of a slimy old alleyway. For weeks on end he'd been receiving curious transmissions on his pirate radio... such that could only come from outer space. Half a year went by before Dib found out it was an alien trying to make communication. The message was scratchy, but they were in correspondence.  
  
Driven by some urge, he ended up at that very alleyway, the spot where the alien voice said it'd send it's secret envoy to Earth and prove to Dib it was all true. He was plenty nervous but all the more willing to find out. Cautiously turning a corner, there was a strange clanking noise. Through the darkness and mist he saw a small gray humanoid dash by and attempt to scramble up a wall. "Gir!" Dib called out at it, assuming this was the envoy he'd been clued in about. The little machine didn't think to respond but just kept trying madly to scale that brick wall.  
  
Finally, it latched on with both feet and hook-arms. It looked tremendously pleased at this accomplishment ...but that was before it spotted a butterfly. "OoooooooOOO!" it squealed and unwittingly tired to cup the insect in its hands. Gir is left with only those feet embedded in the wall so back - and back- its body goes till its metallic head clunks against the wall. Only in this rather painful form does he spot Dib staring back. "Hi!!!" the robot exhorts. Before he can respond, Gir's two bulging, teal-colored eyes light up like a projector and start to form a screen in front of him. "Yes! It's finally coming true!" he cried.  
  
Not that it was particularly important to the story, but as Dib said that, he raced up toward the projection. Along the way, he had the dumb luck to slip on someone's ...mess and crashed headfirst into a puddle of some other ... mess. It didn't faze him too much; getting horribly messy was one thing, but this- this moment was big. He gazed wide-eyed into the projection. The image was coming, coming... and out of the static we're treated to an image of a green-skinned alien adorned in red with pink sleeves. It had large, friendly eyes with blue irises (funny, Dib could've sworn just before the image came into focus he saw it adjusting one of its eyes in place, like it was checking it for dust).  
  
"Hello earthling," it began. "You probably know all about me by now." The voice was genuinely warm and friendly. "...Zim," gasped Dib. That was the name he'd come to admire and cherish for all those months of intergalactic correspondence. If he were any more overjoyed, he was certain he'd lose his voice entirely. The projection went on: "I'm sure you have many questions that you seek answers to. In due time, I shall gladly be the one to insatiate your wonder." Throughout this, Gir wasn't in the least bit interested. "Vweee-hee!" chortled the robot has it continued flailing its arms trying to grasp that same butterfly just hopelessly out of range.  
  
After a pause, Dib spoke up. "Yes- yes I have so much I wanted to ask y-" "Where can we begin?" Zim asked, cocking his head with an eager face. Dib tried again. "Well I was hoping we-" "Perhaps you'd like some understanding of my species' anatomy in relation to your own?" Zim piped up. Couldn't have picked a more fascinating topic, yet the way he asked it, Dib wasn't sure Zim was responding to him. Is this just a one-way communication? he thought. Or do people of his civilization just talk like that ...or is it just him? He thought it best to show utmost courtesy and listen on. Amazingly, despite all his frantic squirming, Gir's head- and therefore the projection- stayed perfectly motionless.  
  
Zim ahem'd and began: "Well, dear earthling, the Irken Race has evolved much more differently. You see, we vary more in size, which rightfully predestines our roles in society. It's of great benefit since leaving it to the less-than-capable hands of that vile mistress, Mother Nature, all of the specially gifted would perish from their first few cycles of weakness." Dib nodded no longer doubting Zim's eloquence. "But unfortunately as gifted as we are. None of us can know the beauty of self-borne flight like you do." An eyebrow raised on Dib's large head. "...huh?" "Such a lovely gift it must be. The vast dimensions of movement, each filled with infinite grace."  
  
"You must tell me, my earthling friend, how your species came about this ability in such a world." Now Dib knew he wasn't hearing things- but even so he was speechless. "Faww Waaf!!!" Gir kept its insanity up like any mechanical being from advanced origins could. "GIR! What ARE you doing!?" Zim asked in an irritated tone. He was answered only by a loud, 5-second continuous squeal of utter incoherence- plus some pointing at the butterfly the robot was trying to catch. "Well STOP it at once! Have you no regard for other life? That's my earthling friend you're pestering! No wonder he hasn't said a word to me yet...!" "...oh-kay," Gir said, more cooled down.  
  
"So, ahem, anyway," Zim continued in his original pleasant tone- all of which was directed at the butterfly. The butterfly... that thing that was simply resting now on Gir's giggly face!? Dib looked pale. Zim just kept on trying. "Hello? Yes? Hmm?" "No, no- you got it all wrong!" Dib said, as loud as possible now. "I'm over here! You wanted to talk to me...!" The projection of the alien perked up, confused. "What the...? GIR!!! You imbecilic fool, reverse the direction of your holoprojector at ONCE!" The robot complied. Zim leered at Dib. "What do you want?" "I'm the earthling. All you were talking to was a butterfly." "A what?? Am I to believe I've been in correspondence with you of all creatures?"  
  
Things weren't looking so up and up for Dib now. "Uh... that's correct." "A LIE! I shan't have any of your worthless deceptions, foul stink creature!" And just as quickly Zim returned his attention to his other guest. "Sorry about that. Now where were we- AUGHHH!" The butterfly was gone and it looked like Gir was munching on something. When it grinned merrily, its metal teeth were stained with pretty colors. "HOW COULD YOU.......!?!" "He was all tasty-ful, master!" Gir explained. "Oh get over it!" Dib snapped. "That was just a simple-minded organism and if you don't mind, I'd still like to talk to you!"  
  
Zim was fuming now. That pleasing, eager smile seemed like a distant memory to both of them. "I may not know how your world treats its gifted beings, but I can tell when I'm faced with absolute impudence! Your world and very existence as you know it... (At this point he claws off his disguise to reveal stinging antennae and a pair of fiery, hateful red orbs as eyes) ...is DOOMED." The projection snaps off. All is quiet again in the dead-end alleyway. Gir plops off the wall in dull crash and simply sits there, scratching its rear. And in just a minute of visual communication, an infinite wave of emotion hit that boy kneeling in that puddle of slime. A drop fell from his eye into the puddle. Then another, and another. The truth always comes with its own brand of hurt, no matter how anyone will wish to interpret it.  
  
End. 


End file.
